fowzia.

“I'm me," she whispered. "Me"
Nel didn't know quite what she meant, but on the other hand she knew exactly what she meant.
"I'm me. I'm not their daughter. I'm not Nel. I'm me. Me."
Every time she said the word me there was a gathering in her like power, like joy, like fear. Back in bed with her discovery, she stared out the window at the dark leaves of the horse chestnut.
"Me," she murmured. And then, sinking deeper into the quilts, "I want... I want to be... wonderful. Oh, Jesus, make me wonderful.”
― Toni Morrison, Sula

“I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in my life. And I am horribly limited.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

“There in the center of that silence was not eternity but the death of time and a loneliness so profound the word itself had no meaning. ”
― Toni Morrison, Sula

“Ah, it's my longing for whom I might have been that distracts and torments me!”
― Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet